


The Castle on Broadberry Peak

by AnathemaAuthoress, DevilishDaddy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Britain/Scottland, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Period Piece, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Castles, Fantasy, M/M, OC/OC - Freeform, Power Play, Vampire Sex, Vampire/Human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 18:49:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16124567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnathemaAuthoress/pseuds/AnathemaAuthoress, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevilishDaddy/pseuds/DevilishDaddy
Summary: Montigue Eldermire just inherited a castle from his late father. It is supposed to be abandoned, but when he arrives, he finds that a handsome stranger has taken up residence and has no intention of leaving. The man's presence is peculiar enough, but can Montigue survive when he finds out what the other man is hiding?





	The Castle on Broadberry Peak

**Author's Note:**

> Anathema Authoress and Devilish Daddy present their first posted original fiction collaboration! This piece is a creative roleplay written between the two of us in our preferred prosey novel-esk style. Though each chapter is planned to focus on just one primary POV, we are both writing back and forth throughout the entire piece.
> 
> AA is writing for our main character, Montigue Eldermire, and DD is the one controlling Lord Raibert Broaden! Other characters to be announced! 
> 
> This story about a young man and his toils with a frightful but enchanting demon has just started, but we hope you will enjoy following each new chapter as they arrive! Don't forget to subscribe and bookmark to get the latest updates, and kudos and comment to let us know we're doing a good job and you'd like more! 
> 
> We will be posting as we create, so this work is subject to edits.

Rolling valleys of green countryside lifted into lush hills, that melted into craggy snow capped peaks, the likes of which made up the elegant and imposing Broadberry Mountains. The earthy stone ridges rested at the heart of Lithakarline, and they were not unapproachable. Despite their great height and tapering points, the mountains had areas of smoothness and a climbing path mapped out by a hundred years of adventurers and villagers that had once made their homes in the sturdy stone face.

Yet, those villagers, those people had come and gone. All that was left was the shattered and dilapidated remains of old wood and stone housings, once welded together strong, and now barely holding up under the corrosion of weather. The only structure that remained fully in tact was the castle on the highest peak’s plateau. Once owned by the wealthiest family of Broadberry Peak, and said to be made of the strongest stone held together by the blood of a thousand slaves, it had stood the test of time even though the family had not. 

The property had been purchased by the Eldermires, elite aristocrats of Broadberry’s neighboring Mirrorburge. However, everyone of the family that had ever tried to stay there had either died or left in a terrible fright. So the deed, and the castle along with it, had gone largely untouched for nearly seventy years. 

It was by mere stroke of luck, or fate, or destiny if the gods found such time to meddle, that the deed landed in the hands of Montigue Eldermire, the bastard son of Count Eldermire and a Whimpleton whore.

He was the Count’s only son, and cherished by his father despite his questionable birthright, and therefore heir to all materials besides specifically bestowed personal effects and the heavy dowry Countess Eldermire had received in the sum of all the gold and coin in the Eldermire name.

Not long after his father’s passing, the Countess was rid of him. Montigue had never been welcomed by she or her daughters, and being of age he had no reason to stay in the only family home that did not belong to him.

In short, dear Monty was left with three summer homes to sell, a cruise line ship to contend with, a plethora of unsorted land investments, and the castle on Broadberry Peak. It was the castle that fascinated him most, and had for a number of years. So it would have been of little surprise to anyone that may have known him that it was there he chose to take up residence–at least until such time as he decided what to do with the old estate.

Rain had been threatening the mountains with dark clouds since the start of the two day journey up the path. The possibility of slick stone and dangerous lightning hung heavy in the already thin mountain air. Monty guided his horse and carriage carefully, kept his eyes toward the goal and made sure to smell for the undeniable scent of rain about to break. 

He nearly made it to the top just as the quake of thunder shook his bones and riled Rosemary to whiny. He calmed her with a tug of her reigns and pulled up the hood of his cloak to guard against the whipping winds that blew through with the first spray of rain. 

The thrashing waves of water, harsh as the turning tides, turned Rosemary’s black fur glossy with a sheen that cut through the rest of the darkness surrounding her. Monty was drenched in an instant, teeth chattering as icy droplets won the war against his meager clothes. 

In a normal situation, Monty would have been in the carriage, not leading it, but nothing had been normal since his father’s death. He merely counted his lucky stars when at last a crack of lightning illuminated the castle up ahead. It had an ominousness about it that was increased by the winding points and towers designed to mimic the very mountain upon which it sat. 

Monty knew the walls were ivory and gray in color, and perhaps overrun by wild vines and overgrowth, but in the dark it was only shadowed shapes and bulging ivy mangled into the haunting shapes of hands clawing at the sides of the structure. Even in its imposing state, Monty was pleased to find it looked like shelter. 

He had familiarized himself with the blueprints enough to find the forward stable and settled Rosemary there as best he could. It was dark and drafty and devoid of hay and other pleasures, but it would keep her through the night until he could tend to her in the light of day. 

He fetched just one suitcase of several and brought it with him into the castle.

Monty had expected darkness and a worn down presence. He had expected dust etched into the spaces between old, forgotten valuables. He had expected cold rooms and a deep loneliness. He had not expected polished floors, or a torchlit foyer. He had not expected music drifting into the lobby from the parlor. He had not expected the very real presence of a stranger. All these things, in fact, caused his heart to pound and his hands to tremble. The rain, soaking him past the skin and to the core, was nothing compared to the chill of knowing someone had been living here. “I suppose,” Monty said to himself with the slightest of tremble, “I’m not alone after all.” 


End file.
